


Tuesday

by jambal



Series: If 6 Was 9 [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 1970s Johnlock, Alternate Universe - 1970s, Bum sexing, Having lots of sex and cannabis, I don't even know if this is teenlock, I like them decadent in this era, Isn't that sweet?, M/M, sort of songfic but not really actually this isn't songfic at all but most probably music porn, this has no plot if you find one tell me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-01
Updated: 2014-05-01
Packaged: 2018-01-21 13:50:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1552685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jambal/pseuds/jambal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>‘I want to have an argument,’ Sherlock says to John’s almost-hard dick.</p>
<p>John sighs and tucks himself back into his briefs. ‘Move over then.’</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tuesday

‘What day is it?’ Sherlock asks, lighting up.

John closes his eyes. He’s thinking. He doesn’t know what day it is. They’ve been here forever. What day is it? What bloody day is it?

_A Day In The Life_

‘Tuesday,’ John says, finally. ‘I think it’s definitely Tuesday.’

Sherlock pauses, his spliff levitating precariously close to his lips.

‘You _think_ it’s definitely Tuesday?’ Sherlock asks, deadpan.

John nods with his eyes closed. ‘Yes.’

Sherlock lowers the spliff and turns his head towards John. ‘Are you fucked?’

John doesn’t open his eyes. ‘Probably.’

‘So, it’s Tuesday,’ Sherlock starts again, moving the joint to his dry lips. ‘What will we do today, John?’

John opens his eyes when he hears his name. ‘Today?’

Sherlock smiles. ‘Yes, John, today.’

John turns on his side. ‘I want you to suck my cock.’

Sherlock inhales the smoke and releases it with a shuddering breath. ‘Okay.’

‘Not right now, though,’ John says quickly. ‘I need a piss.’

‘Go piss,’ Sherlock slurs. ‘I’ll be here.’  
  
  
John sits upright. The room isn’t spinning this time. But there’s a strange damp patch beside the door that wasn’t there. Before. He looks around the room and then catches Sherlock’s gaze. He grins before pushing himself off the bed.

  
The walk to the bathroom is longer than he anticipated. His feet move like they’re supposed to, but the carpet beneath his naked toes is burning. _That’s what’s slowing me down,_ he thinks. _The burning carpet_. That thought gives him pace. He almost falls face-first into the toilet. He pulls his briefs down his thighs and concentrates incredibly hard not to piss everywhere but inside the loo. He holds his dick a bit too tight and the steady flow of urine is like liquid gold and must not spill. It has to reach its destination for it all to make sense. He shakes himself and flushes the loo.

  
He walks into the bedroom and looks at Sherlock, who has sat up on his elbows.

‘What the fuck took you so long?’ Sherlock asks, opening his eyes.

John can’t answer. Because the sound that erupts from Sherlock pierces his eardrums and he really could kill him right now. ‘Fucking hell, Sherlock,’ John winces.

‘Put your fucking cock away, then,’ Sherlock barks out. Still laughing. Manically.

John looks down at his limp cock, which is protruding, garishly, from his pants.

‘Shit,’ John says. ‘Forgot.’

‘Don’t put it away,’ Sherlock says, matter-of-fact.

‘Oh, right,’ John says, walking towards Sherlock, pushing out his hips.

Sherlock looks at him, speechless.

‘Go on then,’ John says, nodding to his cock.

‘I want to have an argument,’ Sherlock says to John’s almost-hard dick.

John sighs and tucks himself back into his briefs. ‘Move over then.’

Sherlock rolls across the bed and grins when his cock makes a satisfying skin-on-skin sound when it hits his abdomen. ‘Hear that?’

John nods.

‘ _All Along the Watchtower_ ,’ Sherlock says.

John sighs loudly, rubbing his palm over his cock. He’s hard. ‘I hate this argument.’

Sherlock grins. ‘Why?’

‘Because I never win,’ John sighs, moving his thumb across the wet spot on his briefs.

‘You never _try_ ,’ Sherlock implores. ‘Go.’

‘Fuck it,’ John says. ‘ _Eleanor Rigby_?’

Sherlock nods, lifting his hips. ‘Safe.’

John sighs, licking his thumb. ‘That’s the point, tosser.’

‘Name calling,’ Sherlock smiles. ‘Another one.’

‘Fuck off, Sherlock,’ John drawls. ‘Light up.’

Sherlock obeys. Knowing.

John turns on his side and watches Sherlock light another spliff.

Their eyes meet. Sherlock proffers the lit joint. John takes it with a shaking hand.

Sherlock moves and straddles John’s legs.

John inhales the smoke and hovers the joint close to his mouth.

Sherlock pulls John’s briefs down until they’re off and throws them across the room. They hit the wall with a small sound. John thinks it might be close to the stain, or Sherlock’s socks.

‘You’re always completely naked,’ John states.

Sherlock takes hold of John’s cock and gives it three strokes.

‘You’re always so hard,’ Sherlock _states_ , grinning.

‘Do something about it,’ John says, masked by a haze of smoke. _He looks far away_ , Sherlock thinks. Which is impossible because he’s currently holding his cock, a cock that will be inside his mouth soon. _He is right there_.  Sherlock looks up at John again and the smoke has dissipated and he can see his eyes. Sort of. _They look a bit off_ , he thinks. John stares at him and wriggles his hips, smiling.

  
‘Sherlock,’ John says.

‘What?’ Sherlock answers.

‘I said your name a hundred times,’ John sighs. ‘You were miles away.’

Sherlock frowns before taking all of John's cock in one.

‘F-fucking hell, Sherlock,’ John groans. ‘Yes, fuck me.’

Sherlock enjoys sucking John’s cock. It’s a nice cock. Their arrangement is casual when words are involved, but they have an understanding. They don’t suck any other cocks. They don’t allow any other fingers or dicks or extremities inside them. They are faithful. But they don’t talk about that. That’s not really cool, is it? Who’s faithful nowadays? Not when the youth are in control. The mindful youth. With their flower power. Everyone is an idiot. _John isn’t an idiot, though_ , Sherlock thinks, sucking on the head of John’s cock and rubbing it across, painting, his dry lips with pre-ejaculate.

‘I don’t want to come, Sherlock,’ John moans from above, somewhere in the ether. _La-la la-la._

Sherlock pulls off John’s cock. He licks the head once before fully detaching himself. ‘I know.’

_Going to California_.

‘You okay?’ John pants, breathless.

Sherlock moves up John’s body and forces their lips together.

Their tongues slide playfully. It tastes like sex.

John pulls away, grinning. ‘Tastes like sex.’

Sherlock smiles slowly.

They’re both breathing fiercely. Their hearts are pounding.

They are drifting somewhere.

They are not present.

But they need to orgasm.

John pushes Sherlock back with an accidental force. But that’s okay.

Sherlock’s legs instinctively wrap around John’s middle.

John enters Sherlock slowly. It’s always slow, until Sherlock uses his fingernails and demands that John fucks him _harder, faster, slower, slowly, harder, sharp, move, fucking move, fucking, stop, stop, I’m-_

John’s hips move in waves. Lapping at the shore. Lingering on the edge and pulling back with force. Pulling back. Pulling in. Fucking with shallow thrusts. Fucking pounding him hard, hard enough to hurt him because _fuck this is, I’m going to, fucking, fuck Sherlock, I’m coming-_

They always come inside each other. It’s just what they do. John likes to lick the come as it drips down Sherlock’s thighs and Sherlock likes to put his tongue inside John’s arse and suck the come out. It’s their routine.

John falls on top of Sherlock and stays there.

Sherlock draws shapes on John’s back.

Like a song or something.

‘ _Miss You_ ,’ Sherlock whispers.

John stirs minutely. ‘I like that one.’

‘You always like _The Stones_ after you’ve had your dick in me,’ Sherlock dismisses.

‘That counts,’ John sighs, licking Sherlock’s chest.

‘Your turn,’ Sherlock counters.

‘ _Come Together_ ,’ John snorts.

Sherlock raises an eyebrow. ‘Fine.’

John jerks his head up. ‘What?’

‘You heard me,’ Sherlock says softly.

‘So you only like _The Beatles_ after I’ve had my dick in you?’ John smiles.

‘Seems like it,’ Sherlock concedes. ‘We could fuck to that song.’

John sighs as he tries to reach for a cigarette.

‘Just get up,’ Sherlock says slowly.

‘I couldn’t be fucked,’ John says. ‘But I need a fag.’

Sherlock smiles, his hands roaming across skin, before pushing John slightly.

‘You fucker,’ John says, reaching for his cigarettes.

‘Share?’ Sherlock asks, still not opening his eyes.

John lights a cigarette and inhales the smoke, before passing it across to Sherlock and regaining his position. Entwined. Legs become indistinguishable and they’re almost one during these moments. Smoke mingles between their bodies and they’re connected. It’s reassuring. Although, they’ll never say that. Men don’t say that. But when fingers interlace and when lips linger on one spot, a bit too long, well that says enough.

  
‘ _If 6 was 9_?’ Sherlock says, grinning.

‘Fucker, that wins,’ John pauses. ‘Dirty bugger.’

‘Let your freak flag fly, John,’ Sherlock exhales with a cloud of smoke.

‘I’m at half mast already.’

They turn their faces in unison.

They laugh.


End file.
